


Gunmetal Bones

by SaphireCorona



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Because that would be lame, F/M, Original Character(s), Plot Twists, Random - Freeform, Rick's not gone forever, Short Story, bored, but he's gone for a little while, probably, writers block
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-08-27 00:36:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16691989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphireCorona/pseuds/SaphireCorona
Summary: When she lost Rick, she lost herself.....Inspired by Rick's last episode, I wanted to take a different approach on how Rick's one and only would cope with losing him.Just a short story with some fun twists and turns and conflicts. I think you'll know by the end of the first chapter if this is your kinda story or not.





	1. Even Hell is Holy

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!
> 
> Don't know where this came from but I wanted to give it a try. I was quite moved by Rick's last episode (as we all were) and my mind took off from that episode and created this little ditty. If it's mildly liked, I'll keep it going but I'm only planning on doing ten or so chapters so nothing crazy.
> 
> This is just an intro chapter (and if you know my writing, this is vague as shit but I think if you're remotely a fan of the show, you'll be able to unravel the mystery).
> 
> Thanks for reading!

I was too late.

I should’ve run faster; until my legs gave out and my lungs were punctured by the effort. I should’ve been with him. I should’ve made him stay. I should’ve have kissed him one last time, told him I loved him, memorized the way his eyes were brighter than the sky when the sunlight brushed his face, traced every curve of his body with the tips of my fingers until my touch had become a tattoo on his skin.

I should’ve saved him. It should’ve been me.  

Instead, I was left screaming on the embankment with tears rushing down my face, my throat dry from the heat of the flames licking through the air. The ground beneath my boots was torn up from fighting to get to him as Carol and Michonne held me back from joining him in the fire.

Happily, I would’ve burned. It would’ve been better than facing the world without him. 

Sobs wracking my chest until it was bruised, I fell as I was forced to watch the only man I had ever loved get pulled away from me by the cold, ruthless hands of death. Every time they tried to put me back on my feet, I screamed my pleas like a trapped and wounded animal. I’d push and claw my way out of their hands until they finally gave up and let me suffocate under the weight of my anguish. 

I couldn't remember how long I stayed like that, rocks and thorns scratching and tearing at my skin, drawing blood that I no longer wanted. I yelled and cried for hours after, until the sun, too, died and slipped into darkness, hoping that maybe he'd hear me and find his way back.

Only when I had exhausted myself did they attempt to lift me from the ground where I had made a grave out of the trampled earth. They took my broken shell of who I used to be back to Alexandria, where we had our life together, where everything would remind me that he was never going to speak my name or touch his hand to my cheek in admiration again. 

I waited, hopelessly, for him to come back, to walk through the front gates. I waited for  _ months _ . 

He never showed.

I tried everything to find him, traded every minute of my days to bring him home but there was nothing left. No trace that his boots had ever made their mark in the dirt or that his voice had been carried along in the wind. All I had left were his shirts and his weathered hat but they no longer smelled like him and I damned the ticking hands of time for taking away the last gasp of air that was keeping my heart beating.

It wasn’t long after that until I stopped eating. I wandered the woods for hours in hopes that a dead soul would guide me to the other side but they’d move past me as if I was already one of them. I stopped caring, I stopped fighting, but it seemed I was destined to suffer sleepless nights and haunted days for years to come.

But there was one person; one person who had once brought me to the jagged cliff of life and threatened to push me off. 

For so long, I forced myself to thrust the idea out of my head because I knew it was the only way I could still honor him. But I was lost in the deepest, darkest part of the forest and it seemed that the only way out was to douse every blade of grass and fiber of wood in gasoline and hand the match to the man who wouldn’t flinch as he watched me get lost in the flames.

Once it was dark, once no one would be awake to witness me giving up after all this time, I crossed the road to the brick-lined basement of the empty house on the corner of the street; gun in my hand. 

Nearly stumbling down the stairs, I carelessly closed the door behind me in hopes that I would wake him. Having no such luck, I closed the distance between us. “Get up,” bleary-eyed and my voice stricken with ceaseless agony, I banged on the iron pipes of his cell with the handgun. The moon was the only light in the room and it was just enough to show his drowsy perplexion. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What? It's the middle of the fucking night. What the hell do you want?” With as much irritation as he could gather at two in the morning, he rubbed the palm of his hand against his eyes and pushed himself off his cot. When he stepped closer to me, he could hear my fragmented breathing. “Christ, what's wrong with you? You're shaking like a goddamn leaf in a fucking hurricane.” 

Out of options and too exhausted to think twice about what I was doing, I shoved the pistol through the bars. I shook it at him to tell him to take it and he did so cautiously, thinking it was a trap.

“I can't do it and no one else will,” I cried in a voice that no longer sounded of my own, “I need you to kill me.”

 

____________6 Years Later______________

 

I put the last of the dishes away in the cupboard and turned the kitchen sink on to soak a rag before I began to wipe down the counter. The front door opened and let in a billowing rush of hot summer air along with the sound of heavy footsteps and high pitched squealing. I looked up and gave him an affectionate scowl of criticism to which he brushed off with a shrug.

“There’s mommy,” pointing, he cooed to the girl in his arms. She was covered in dirt. Grass was stuck in her dark hair and mud was smeared by small handprints on his stubbled cheeks and old grey t-shirt. Laughing at her bright smile, he made his way to me and set her on the counter. She held her hands out to me, seeking another victim to share her mess with.

“Oh,” I drawled, “what did you and daddy get into?” Smiling for her, I sent a sideways glance to her seldom responsible father. 

“Lucy, you wanna tell her what we did?” he beamed with a deep lilt. 

“We made you mud pies!” she sounded; despite the fact that there was no evidence of mud pies to be found. 

“We made you mud pies,” he repeated in a lower, smoother voice that subdued her cheerful exclamation. 

“Aren’t you thoughtful?” I rubbed the dirt off his chin with my thumb and a scrunched nosed smirk. “And you are messy as can be!” She giggled at my sing song tune and her dark brown eyes reflected the joy in her smile. I picked her up and placed her back on her feet. “Let’s get you into the bath and get you cleaned up.” I gathered her hair, twigs and leaves poking my hands as I let it cascade over her shoulders. 

“I don’t wanna.” With the flip of a switch, her stubborn nature prevailed and she rebelled my suggestion with a pout. 

“C’mon, missy, I ain’t gonna let you get the house dirty after your mom’s cleaned it.” Though he may have been the one to encourage her to somehow cover the majority of herself in dirt, his commanding tone had been altered over time to better suit the ears of a child and it was damn effective.

She let out a sigh and her head dropped in the slightest, “‘kay, daddy.” I rolled my eyes. To her, the end of the world only befell when she had to stop playing. For the past five years, she lived blissfully festive in these walls without the slightest clue of what haunting tragedies had brought her here.

“I'll meet you up there, sweetie,” I called after her as she awkwardly made her way upstairs to the bathroom. She was used to being spoiled and carried by her long legged father so it was always amusing to watch her conquer the steps on her own. 

As soon as she was out of earshot, the man beside me returned to his former self, “You gonna give me a bath next?” He pulled me against him in search of a mid morning kiss and I found it easier to forgive the mess he created when his lips met mine.  

“Mmm,” I mumbled against his mouth, pretending to think about it, “no.”

“What about a shower?” he pinned me to the counter, the toe of his muddied boot between my feet and his hips pressed against mine. “Hmm,” he gave me that impish, wayward look that always made me shiver, even before all of this, “kinda gets me all hot and bothered just thinking about it.” His tongue traced his bottom lip, his voice sweeter than warm honey on a winter night. “Fuck me, if our kid wasn’t up there making a goddamn mess outta everything I would screw your brains out right here and now.” He followed up with nothing short of a licentious growl in my ear. 

“God, you are insufferable, you know that?” I pressed my damp hands against his sun-beaten arms and tried to push him out of the way but he had me beat two times over. 

He gripped my backside in his hand in retaliation, “So you’ve told me.” Changing his tactics, he tenderly kissed my forehead before giving me a fraction of my space and freedom back. “Alright, I'm gonna go try and clean Luce.” 

I pursed my lips in thought and surprise, “Don't you have to go to the Sanctuary today?” Though his home was here, he still maintained his hold on his first community. 

He grinned at how easily he could still catch me off guard with a thoughtful action, “Those fuckers can wait.”

I could never match his perfectly exuberant smile but I gave my best attempt every time. “Thank you. My sanity thanks you.” She was her father's daughter in every way from her quick wit to her ambition to her propensity to find trouble. She was a handful, to say the least. 

“You can thank me in the shower tonight.” I allowed his hands to wander up my sides as he kissed below my ear. 

I snorted a laugh, “Yeah, you’re gonna need one after taking care of that mess.” I folded my arms over my chest and leaned my lower back against the counter when he stepped away in veiled surrender. 

He winked, “Guess I’ll see you tonight, then.” Before following Lucy up the stairs, he grabbed my jaw and pulled my lips to his once more.  

I rolled my eyes and sighed at a personality I didn’t think I’d ever acclimate to. When I saw that he had left the front door open, I flippantly dropped the rag in the sink after wiping the dirt off the counter and went to close it. On the deck, next to her shoes, her favorite toy, splattered with mud, had been forgetfully abandoned to soak up the summer rays. 

I bent down to pick it up and used my other hand to brush the dirt off her plastic bat. She had wrapped it in color with red and silver markers because she wanted it to look like her father’s. 

And she wanted to be just like her daddy. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

*Insert forlorn, wistful sigh here because I just can't fucking find the words*


	2. Church of Broken Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know you want me. But I've come close enough for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Crawls out from under the shambles of my life* I did it, I wrote another chapter for this thing! It only took me a fucking lifetime but I did it. 
> 
> I'm thinking of probably capping it off at ten chapters so things will probably start moving a little faster after this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for dedicating a few minutes of your day to support my sad little literature daydreams.

Frustrated, I all but tore the paper when I shoved the book over the corner of the map to keep it from curling towards the center. Sighing, I looked over my shoulder to check on Lucy. She sat at her mahogany desk with a pencil in her hand and a pout on her face. Her plump bottom lip, the only thing she seemed to inherit from me, was as prominent as the frustration in her dark hazel eyes. I smirked and felt my stress evaporate in the heat of her adorable attempt to mimic the vivid anger that her father could display with a fleeting glance.

“What's wrong, chipmunk?” I turned in my chair to face her, flippantly balancing a pen between the tips of my fingers.

She looked up from the faded textbook in front of her. “I don’t want to do school work. Daddy doesn’t make me do school work.”

For a man that murdered people in the most barbaric fashion I’d ever witnessed, he was about as intimidating as a pudding cup when it came to his daughter. As she was growing up, I feared that he would treat her like another liability but you could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He would die for her and bend over backwards to make her happy.

Nonetheless, everyone else was still wordlessly terrified of him.

“That’s because daddy is irresponsible,” I informed with tender annoyance. He could run two communities flawlessly yet refused to imbue his daughter with a boring but beneficial task. “Besides, it’s good to learn new things.”

“But we’ve been in here for so long,” she whined, throwing her head back with an exaggerated cry. It prompted me to look over at the small analog clock on the corner of the desk. I hadn’t realized that three hours had passed and I was surprised that she maintained her constitution for this long before complaining. Admittedly, I had kept her busy with school work for my own selfish reasons.

For the past six years, I’d been creating marks and messy scrawls of notes on a map of where I’d looked for Rick and where I thought he could be found. Even after all this time, I just could never seem to let him go. It was as if there was a pilot light constantly flickering in my mind that whispered the story of how he had lived; how he could still come home. But my map had become engulfed in ink and I could scarcely see the words and lines that used to be there. It was an image of my broken heart, dwindling sanity, and loss of self. There were a few late nights when I considered throwing it into the fireplace in search of some sort of closure but every time the flames came close to clinging to the paper, I’d pull it back and lay it back down on the desk where it could continue to torment me.

“When’s daddy coming home?” she wondered aloud, no doubt anticipating the inevitable escape from chores and homework.

“He should be home tonight around dinner time.” I set my pen down on the table and decided to get up and stretch my legs. She ran up to me and collided with my leg when I stopped to stare out the window. I smoothed her hair with my hand while I watched a few of the community members walk along the sidewalk.

After the choices I had made, many of the original people of Alexandria left for the Hilltop or the Kingdom. I didn’t argue against them and I let them leave without putting up a fight because how could I blame them? After Rick, their leader, was gone, I allowed Negan, the man who damn near single-handedly destroyed three different communities, to roam free and take command with me by his side. It was a betrayal to myself, Rick and everyone who supported him. Those who had stayed were the ones who were too afraid to take sides and were most comfortable when they had rules to follow that made them feel protected.

Negan’s leadership had changed, however, after he found out that he was going to become a father. He was still rigid and disciplined but he put a stop to demanding supplies and labor from his people. In a way, he reminded me of how Rick had led but there was a distinct atmosphere of anxiety that lingered like a low fog within the community.

There was a rhythmic tugging on my shirt and I looked down to smirk at Lucy. “Bored?” She nodded vehemently, hope glittering in her eyes. I blew the air from my cheeks and rubbed my hand over her back as I thought of something to do. I wasn’t the best with children. Even with Rick’s son, before he passed away, I always struggled to find a plane of communication on which we could connect. Maybe it was the harshness of the world now that made it difficult for me to channel a facet of joy that a child understood but Negan balanced my personality surprisingly well and I was grateful for his charismatic disposition to keep Lucy smiling.

I tried to come up with something that she hadn’t done in a long while. I certainly wasn’t going to take her outside again after this morning. As much as he loved her, Negan looked like he was running on his last bit of patience when he finally finished cleaning her up. I hoped for their sake that the Sanctuary was still running a tight ship as to avoid pushing him to his breaking point.

“How about…” I drawled thoughtfully, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth as if I’d be able to knock an idea out of my head by doing so. What did I used to do with my mom when I was a kid? “Do you want to bake some real pies for Daddy?”

Her lips pulled into a bright smile to reveal an exuberant smile that was missing the tooth that she had recently lost. She began to jump up and down in excitement, her little hands still clinging to my shirt.  
“Alright, alright, don’t tear my shirt,” I laughed gently. “Get your books cleaned up and then we can get started in the kitchen.”

 

* * *

 

 

After declaring that pies were taking too long to make and requesting that we make cookies instead, she wanted to spread the joy of baked confectionaries with the community.

I stood on the sidewalk in front of Allison's house watching over Lucy as she knocked on her door with a near-empty plastic bowl of cookies in her hand. When the fragile, tenderhearted, middle-aged blonde opened the door, she smiled kindly at Lucy and sent me an appreciative wave before striking up an innocuous conversation with my daughter.

“Looks like you two have been busy,” Gabe's ever gentle voice appeared beside me and I breathed a laugh.

I unfolded my arms from my chest and gave a quick once over of my fingernails to see if I got all the flour out from under them. “We probably made enough cookies to feed a village,” I joked dryly. Gabriel was an intriguing character and I was surprised that he chose to stay at Alexandria after everything Negan had done to him. I attributed his choice to his beliefs and his loyalty to saving troubled souls.

He smiled along with me, “She has a generous heart. You should both be proud.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” Knowing Lucy would be fine if I took my eyes off her for a few moments, I turned to Gabriel. “How have things been going with you and the council?”

Negan had a council of sorts back when he had the world at his fingertips and he deemed it appropriate to keep some of his old habits around nowadays. Gabriel was one of the more active members and acted as the liaison that would keep Negan updated on projects or disruptions. I had been offered a place on the council many times and I had declined each one. When I was with Rick, I had helped him plan Negan’s demise and worked with him to rebuild civilization. The thought of doing that with someone else made me ill.

“Very well,” he met my gaze and for a split second, I had to remind myself not to linger on his clouded eye. Years had passed since his affliction possessed him and it still made me uneasy. “Our fuel production should have us well stocked through the winter and we are almost done with the new garden site.”

I nodded in passive approval. “That's good to hear. Just let me know if you need anything and I’ll make sure Negan takes care of it.”

Alexandria lost the support of Hilltop and the Kingdom when they discovered that I had not only let Negan out of his would-be-life-sentence, I had conceived a child with him and gave him free rein of the community. At first, I feared that we'd never be able to thrive on our own, but between Negan's resilient leadership and the diminutive amount of trade we did with the Sanctuary, Alexandria had been doing quite well. Because of that, I rarely made inquiries into Negan's upcoming plans. I had developed an odd sense of trust and faith in him, which is something I never thought could happen.

“Of course, thank you,” he gave a faint bow of gratitude. “How have you been?” he was hunting for much more than a blanketed reply. We had known each other for quite some time and in those years, he had become a friend of sorts who was at the very least able to tell when I was bothered; and I had been bothered ever since Rick disappeared.

“Fine. Same old, same old.” I successfully faked a smile but he saw through it and perked a sympathetic brow. “Really, Gabe, I’m okay.”

“Well, if you ever need to talk, you--”

I let out a curt sigh, “I haven’t needed to talk to anyone about it for the past six years and I doubt that’s going to change but thank you.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing could be heard over the racket of the front gates rolling back to let in the herd of horses and riders that trotted through. It only took a matter of seconds before the closing of the gates were followed by Lucy’s high pitched squeal of joy as she ran past me, dropping the bowl at my feet as she went. To excuse myself from Gabriel’s concern, I bid him goodbye and followed after her but at a much more languid pace.

Her father tugged at the reins with a strong hand to slow down his horse that was as black as the jacket that he still wore. In his other hand, he held Lucille, dripping with blood from someone who was or wasn't alive when they met the barbed wire. I looked at him with soft eyes that were flooded with relief. Years ago, the sight of him confidentially strolling through the gates made me weak with dread but now he was a sight for sore eyes.

His black hair was shorter now and more so matched the peppered tint of his beard but his smile and dark eyes were charismatic as ever. Ruggedly handsome as usual, his lips pulled into a slow, cocky smile when he saw me tagging along behind Lucy. He was a distraction for me that I had grown to care for in an aberrant way that I still didn't understand. All I knew was that he was the one thing that kept me from using a gun to head to try and find Rick and I had inevitably become quite fond of him.

The young man that Negan commonly referred to as “a fucking kiss ass” took both Lucile and hold of the horse so that he could put his boots on the pavement.  
  
“Hey, princess,” his deep voice was cheerful as he scooped Lucy up in his arms and kissed her cheek. She wrapped her arms around him as best she could in return. “You have a good day?” He asked in a tone much more buoyant than when he spoke to me. She nodded and began prattling, incoherently at times, about everything she did.

By the time he put her down, I was only a few feet from their reunion. “You're home early,” I greeted. I wasn't expecting him home until nightfall. Not that I was complaining.

He met me halfway and pulled me into a tight hug as if it'd been days since he'd been home. “I missed my girls,” he kissed my forehead once before placing another atop my head. “Mmm, you smell good.”

I looked up at him and he winked suggestively. “There are cookies waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“You and cookies?” Purposefully, he placed his hand against the side of my neck, his thumb beneath my chin and the tips of his fingers pressing lightly into my skin as he kissed me. “God damn, you spoil me, baby,” his sultry tone complimented the heat of his lips against mine and there was no dismissing the faint skip in my heartbeat.

He had no shame in public displays of affection. While it was something that boosted his ego, it had quickly ushered in my downfall. He was a hard man to say no to because he was both dangerously persuasive and brutally forceful. Nowadays, I hardly noticed the innocent bystanders who caught glimpses of his fervid amativeness and it became increasingly easier to get lost in his touch and forget everything; if only for a moment.

“Miss me?” he broke away and wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me close.

“A little,” I lied. I missed him tremendously when he was gone. I hated being alone now because there was nothing worse than being slowly annihilated by my hollowed heart and a form of self-torture that was beyond recognition.

He grinned, “Well, I gotta take care of some shit but then I’m all yours.”

Lucy reprimanded his coarse language with a smack to his leg. “No swearing.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Trying to get him to stop swearing was like trying to keep the sun from burning away in the sky. Releasing me, his slow, devilish laugh was his rebuttal and he hugged her side to his leg, his hand over her ear to keep her from hearing.

“Excuse the shit out of my goddamn French but I would love to fuck you in that bed of ours tonight,” he kept his voice to a rough whisper this time to ensure she wouldn’t hear his vulgar speech. I bit down on my lip in flustered shyness and his eyes flickered between my mouth and my blushed cheeks.

“Your romantic gestures leave a lot to be desired, you know.”

“The hell are you talking about? I’m very fucking romantic.” he gave a smug, sarcastic, snuffed laugh before continuing. “I even got you something for our anniversary.”

“Oh?” I raised a brow.

“I’ll give it to you after dinner,” he promised.

“Do I get a hint?” My curiosity had been piqued. He had gifted me with a few objects here and there throughout the years and they were always surprising, to say the least.

“It's expensive as shit and I didn’t even have to fucking kill anyone to get my hands on it.” He grabbed my hand and kissed the tips of my fingers. “If ya want, you can put your hand in my pocket and see what you find.” He was by far the most suggestive man I'd ever met but he acted in a way that was achingly charming and hard to be annoyed by.  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Go take care of your _stuff_ ,” I corrected, pushing his head to the side with my hand without giving into his antics.

Realizing that things were being said that she couldn’t listen in on, she began to struggle against Negan’s lock tight grip. He laughed under his breath but let her go and ruffled her hair into a playful mess before departing for the center of town. “You be good for your mom. I’ll be home before you know it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Vee, wake up, darling,” he gave a gentle shake to my shoulder. “Baby,” he whispered.

I lifted my head from the comfortable space that I had been tucked into beneath his arm. When I glanced down, I found Lucy curled up at his other side with a blanket and her head on his lap. In one hand, he had his notebook that he had been writing inventories and updates in while the other rested against my thigh. Then, I found his dark gaze, brightened by a heartwarming smile.

He was a man of various joys. I'd seen smiles of sadism from him after he claimed another life with a gory mess in his wake. There was the domineering grin that he'd flash when he got under someone's skin and controlled their emotions with a few passing words. When he was content, it was an indulgent smirk that was reflected in his eyes.

But none of those euphoric expressions could hold a candle to how he looked now. With Lucy on his lap and me at his side, he looked like he was the luckiest man in the world and no one could tell him otherwise. As if everything had worked out for him in the end and all his sacrifices and mistakes were worth it for this moment alone.

Bliss looked good on him.

Despite it all, I felt bad for forcing him to be my pillow after asking him to be my emotional crutch for six years. “Sorry, I didn’t sleep well last night.” I excused my late night drowsiness through a mumble.

He chuckled soundlessly, “Yeah, I know.” He pecked the top of my head with a kiss of forgiveness. “I’ll put Lucy to bed and then what do you say we call it a night?” I nodded in reply and sat up straight so he could maneuver out from under Lucy and pick her up from the couch. “Come on, baby girl, time for bed.”

A few somnolent noises escaped from her but she was otherwise oblivious as she and her blanket were carried upstairs to her room. I watched with the whisper of a smile as he disappeared into the dim light of the evening. Once I was surrounded by silence, my thoughts took the opportunity to give me a headache with obtrusive reminders that while I was safe and sound in the sanctuary of my living room, Rick could be out there alone and desperately trying to survive.

Disgruntled, I shoved myself away from the warmth of the couch and traced my well-trodden path to the office that Lucy and I had been working in this morning. Everything was just as I had left it. I knew I should’ve just closed the door and let my demons lie yet I moved forward to grab my pen and lean over the map to see if there was something, anything that I had missed over the years. My eyes struggled to find a blank space on the map that would give me an excuse to pack up and go into the woods to try and find him, but there was nothing.

“There you are,” his voice rounded the corner and it sounded relieved. “Kid’s out like a fucking light.” I could feel his eyes studying my tensed posture as he tried to decipher my actions without asking. “What are you doing in here?” I heard his hands rubbing together as if he had a caught a chill as he walked in.

“I was just…” the thought of explaining what my hands had been busied with exhausted me, especially when he already knew, “nothing.” I shrugged the burden off my shoulders and tossed the worn pen back onto the desk where it rolled off the side and collided with the carpet below.

When I let out an aggravated sigh, he took his opportunity to snake his arms around my waist and rest his chin on my shoulder. A shiver swept through me at the sudden body heat and he kissed a smile against my neck, his voice a whisper that had been coarsened by years of loud leadership. “Vee, it’s been six years. You’re gonna kill yourself over looking for something that ain’t there.”

“I know. I know he’s gone,” I told him sternly to make myself believe it. “I just,” I looked down at the map in search for answers, “wish I knew where so that I could have some closure.”

His sigh was warm and deepened with understanding, “I know, baby, but sometimes we don’t get closure. You don’t have to fucking like it but you gotta accept it.” He turned me around in his arms to ensure I was listening, “Look,” he reasoned, “it bugs the shit outta me that I’ll never know what happened to my wife. She could’ve died a long time ago or she could still be wandering around waiting for someone to put her out of her goddamn misery because I was too much of a pussy to do it myself.”

He was a man who had been hardened by his actions and there were very few things that managed to break his apathetic, don’t-give-a-damn disposition. His wife, Lucille, who he had begged to name our daughter after, brought out a side of him that I never knew existed. Years ago when I had run to him after not being able to take it anymore, he had been just as broken as I was all because he no longer had the one thing that connected him to the wife he’d let down.

My thousand-yard stare and detached tone left me feeling like I was miles away from him and lost in the empty fields of my thoughts. “Do you ever blame yourself? For what happened?”

“What? No. She had cancer. There was nothing I could’ve done to keep her alive and there was nothing you could’ve done to save Rick.” I flinched when he said his name but it was nice to hear it spoken out loud as I couldn’t bear to let the sheer sound of it cross my lips. “So don’t blame yourself, darlin’. Any one of us could get our ticket punched and there ain’t nothing you can do to change that.”

“I wish that made me feel better.” Tears burned at my eyes but I extinguished them with a few blinks.

The tip of his tongue skirted along his bottom lip as his mouth twitched with a smile and an idea. “Come on, I got something to cheer you up.” Without giving me a choice, he gripped my arm and towed me out of the room and towards the master bedroom upstairs. I followed in dutiful silence, feeling the shadow of my grief fade away in his animated movements. He always had a swing in his step and it was as prevalent as ever this evening.

He closed the door behind us and trapped me in with whatever he had planned. “I know the first time I met you, I beat your friends’ heads in and I’m pretty damn sure that at one point, you and I were both dead fucking set on killing each other but look at us now: we got a kid together and we share this king size bed.” I rolled my eyes at his specific attention to detail. “And sure, this great fucking chemistry we have between us started off with you putting a gun in my hand and asking me to blow your fucking brains out and then ended with me _screwing_ your brains out instead, but--” It was clear that he was enjoying this trip down memory lane but it was something I could’ve gone without.

“Are you done?” I cut him off with crossed arms and an affectionately sharp tone.

“Almost,” he grinned at my pushed buttons. “Look, point is, I think it’s fair game to say that after all the shit you went through and all the shit I did, we were both due for a clean slate and we fucking got it, baby; you and me.” He held my chin in his hands with a careful touch. It was a night and day difference from the first time he had done it, back when I had threatened his life; back when Rick was still alive. “I care about you.”

“I care about you, too,” I replied slowly. His behavior was naturally peculiar but this sudden influx of verbal affection was rather bizarre.

“No, I mean,” when I saw that he was at a loss for words, my pulse grew anxiously cold, “I love the shit out of you, Vee, and I haven’t felt that way about someone since Lucille.” His hand dropped away from my face and I watched his movements with wide, cautious eyes. “I know, nowadays, this sorta thing don’t really mean shit but,” he reached into the pocket of his bloodstained jeans and pulled out the gift he had mentioned to me hours ago. “I would love for the badass, strong-willed, hot as fuck mother of my child to also be my wife.”

I stared at the diamond ring pinched between his thumb and index. It reminded me of the ring that Maggie wore. I remembered her telling me when Glenn had given it to her and I remembered silently hoping that someday, Rick would do the same for me. It was a frivolous fantasy that occupied the quiet alleys of my mind. A world filled with so much death didn’t have the time nor the sense to support romantic marriage proposals and lifelong commitments. I was convinced that Rick felt the same way and I had told myself, many years ago, that it was only a thought to help lull me to sleep at night.

Yet, here I stood.

His patience couldn’t be faulted as he waited for me to speak, to breathe. “I...don't know what to say.”

“Just say yes.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

I'll just be over here dying because oh my god I love his face

But did y'all see him on Supernatural? Absolutely heartwrenching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh what's a girl to do??
> 
> We will find out next chapter....whenever that comes out. 
> 
> And where's Rick???
> 
> We will also find out....in a few chapters! 
> 
> Have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what y'all think! Maybe it's just something that my personal daydreaming enjoys but if you want more, just say so!
> 
> Thanks guys, have a great day!


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